Vander wasn't scared that anyone would rob him—he had nothing. Nothing of value, nothing worth stealing. And fearing for his life? That had stopped being a concern a long time ago. His bloodline ability couldn't be compared to Zyren's own, not even remotely, but it was still more than enough for him to hold his own in a fight if necessary. Enough to survive. Enough to kill.
Slowly, he closed his eyes, lashes fluttering shut as exhaustion crept over him despite his vigilance. His back rested against the cold stone wall of the alley, the damp seeping through his clothes as he drifted into a long, restless nap. His body never truly relaxed; muscles remained tense, instincts alert even as sleep claimed him.
When he finally woke, the sun had already set.
Darkness had swallowed the skies whole, the faint glow of distant lanterns barely managing to cut through the gloom. Shadows stretched long and distorted across the alley, clinging to walls and pooling at corners as though alive.
